


Incandescent

by Z A Dusk (snakeandmoon)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley in Love (Good Omens), Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley invented Valentines Day, I'm new at E rated tagging ok!, Love Confessions, M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Top Crowley (Good Omens), Valentine's Day, and you can't convince me otherwise, crowley is a romantic, or maybe the porn IS the plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:49:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22705738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snakeandmoon/pseuds/Z%20A%20Dusk
Summary: When Valentine's Day becomes popular, Crowley is unexpectedly enthusiastic, much to Aziraphale's confusion. Love tokens are exchanged, even if no one will admit that's what they are. Letters are written, and invitations are extended. They've only ever wanted each other, and with the apocalypse fast approaching, neither wants to risk reaching the end of the world without being together, just once.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 55
Kudos: 267





	Incandescent

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spooklock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spooklock/gifts).



> Thank you to [Mira Woros](https://archiveofourown.org/users/miraworos) for the amazing beta work - and encouragement!

It started somewhere in the early seventeenth century, when humans were beginning to sporadically associate Valentine’s Day with romantic love. In 1612, Aziraphale found a roll of fresh parchment in his London townhouse. A few years later, he found a beautiful quill pen. When he had to travel for work at that time of year, he’d find a woven blanket when he was cold, or delectable sweets to enjoy when he was stuck at the ends of the earth.

He knew it was Crowley, but whenever he tried to mention it, the demon just shrugged.

Then the late eighteen century rolled around and it became fashionable to send handwritten Valentines. On the twelfth of February 1791, Aziraphale sat down at his desk and wrote Crowley a letter. 

_“Do you remember that night in 1592 when we visited Bath? The full moon on the waters of the river was like a painting in light. I especially recall the serpent pin you affixed to your jerkin. You were quite dashing, my dear._ ”

Crowley turned up the next night with a bottle of wine in hand and a grin on his face. He greeted the angel with a quick peck on the cheek (which turned his legs softer than butter) and proceeded to drink and chatter so happily that Aziraphale couldn’t keep from beaming at him.

After that, the letters became a tradition. 

_“Do you ever think about Mesopotamia? I most certainly do. You took your wings out more often in those days. I recall one year you let me groom them. I still think about the way your feathers felt under my fingers.”_

_“Do you remember when we ran into each other in Vienna, 1752? It always seemed odd to me, dear boy, that your assignment just happened to bring you to me. We drank wine into the small hours of the morning at that restaurant with the exquisite string quartet.”_

_“Do you recall that night in Scotland when we got snowed in? You insisted we go for a walk in the snow. Thank goodness I had a warm coat with me! You were so striking, my dear, with your red hair and golden eyes, so colourful against the falling snow.”_

As time wore on and Valentine’s Day became tackier, Aziraphale was baffled to find himself a regular recipient of fluffy white teddy bears, red heart-shaped lollipops, overblown flower arrangements, and all manner of sappy (and unsigned) cards.

One night, when they were a few bottles in, he couldn’t keep silent anymore.

“Why on earth do you send me these things, Crowley? It’s very sweet, but surely you must know they’re hardly my style. Please don’t think me ungrateful, I am just thoroughly confused.”

Crowley’s mouth quirked up at one corner, and he took his glasses off so Aziraphale was looking him right in the eye.

“As the apocalypse draws nearer, Hell watches me more closely. Thoughtful gifts might be conspicuous, but slightly tacky Valentines? Easy to pass off as a way to annoy you.”

Aziraphale barked out a laugh.

“Crowley! You can’t mean …”

Crowley nodded, as steadily as a demon four sheets to the wind could be expected to nod.

“Started the whole damn Valentines hoopla as a way to sneakily send you love messages. Got a commendation for it and everything.”

Azirphale shook his head fondly, but there was a tightness in his chest.

“Oh … Crowley.”

The demon made a shushing motion.

“Best not say anything, angel.”

The next morning, Aziraphale found a single red rose on his desk, with a note attached.

_“If we manage to achieve our impossible goal, we’ll talk about this again. Until then, I remain, forever your Crowley.”_

Aziraphale dithered over what to say in response for several hours. The next morning he arranged for a single white rose to be delivered to Crowley, with a note that read _“I hope and trust the day will come when we can be frank with one another. Until then, I will be waiting. Ever yours, Aziraphale.”_

Every few years Aziraphale would find a heart-shaped helium balloon or cake pop bouquet waiting for him. He stashed every single gift - even the “love dice” and fluffy handcuffs (which he thought about far more than would be prudent to admit) - in a cupboard at the back of the bookshop.

The year Warlock would turn eleven, Aziraphale found an invitation on the doormat.

_“14th February, Kielder Forest campsite. Bring blankets. And at least six flasks of tea.”_

When Aziraphale arrived, the campsite was deserted. Every pitch had been mysteriously booked. The Northumberland air was clear and fresh as frost, and not a light could be seen from the clearing. Kielder forest had the darkest skies in England. And now it had an angel, sitting on a thick travel rug and bundled in three other blankets, waiting for a demon.

Crowley arrived just moments later, settling down beside the angel and offering a small smile as he set out two flasks and a picnic basket.

“It’s beautiful here,” Aziraphale told him, gratefully accepting a cup of lemon and ginger tea. “Oh, excellent choice, dear. Very warming.”

Crowley smiled more openly then, cupping his hands over Aziraphale’s for a moment before drawing back.

“Thanks for coming.”

“Thank you for the invitation. May I ask what inspired it?”

Crowley didn’t answer, but his gaze travelled to the endless dark sky above them. Aziraphale knew at once that Crowley was sharing the distant, glimmering fire of his first creations with him.

“Oh, Crowley.” He leaned across and stroked the demon’s hair back from his forehead. “You hardly ever mention your stars.”

Crowley shrugged, but he nuzzled into the angel’s touch.

“Don’t like talking about the old days. Hurts worse that way. I still like to see them, though, and I wanted to see them with you.”

Neither of them needed to voice the _in case we don’t make it out alive._ They sat in silence while Aziraphale finished his tea, and sampled the various sandwiches and cakes the demon had so thoughtfully brought with him. When Crowley reclined on the blanket to better watch the sky, Aziraphale settled next to him. Crowley turned his head to smile at him, and Aziraphale’s heart leaped in his chest, hard enough to startle him. 

“You’re more beautiful than any of the stars you made.”

The words were out before he could stop them, but the way Crowley’s smile brightened made the indiscretion utterly worth it. 

“I never dreamed up a star half as lovely as you, angel.”

Aziraphale rolled onto his side to face the demon, who echoed the movement so they were almost nose to nose.

“I meant what I said in my last letter, Crowley. I’ll be waiting.”

The demon leaned forward at that, pressing his lips to Aziraphale’s face and so carefully mouthing tiny kisses down his cheekbone, murmuring against his skin.

“What about being ever mine? Did you mean that too?”

“Yes.” It came out on a trembling sigh. “Always.”

They were close enough that Aziraphale could see the way Crowley’s chest rose and fell as his breath hitched. He moved forward a scant few centimeters, biting his lip as if fighting himself. Aziraphale could see the conflict in his eyes as he looked at the angel desperately, silently pleading for an answer. 

Before Aziraphale could give one, Crowley took a shuddering breath in, then closed the rest of the distance and kissed Aziraphale hard. He was warm despite the cold night air, and his hands trailed warmth everywhere they touched. They warmed Aziraphale through his clothes at first, then he felt their heat on his bare skin as Crowley found his way under his waistcoat and shirt. He felt a few buttons come unmoored as Crowley worked insistently at stripping his clothes off, but found he couldn’t have cared less if Crowley had torn his clothes to shreds and scattered them to the four winds, so long as he could feel those hands on him.

“Angel,” Crowley moaned softly into the side of his neck, as Aziraphale hurriedly pulled the demon’s clothes off. “If we fail, if the world ends...if I die never knowing your touch... I need you.”

“I need you, too. I always have” Aziraphale said gently, as Crowley trailed kisses from his chest to his stomach and lower. Crowley’s lips caressed every inch of Aziraphale’s shaft, already so hard for him, before continuing down his thighs. His tongue flickered behind the angel’s knees then traced the line of his calves down to his ankles. 

By the time Crowley returned to kiss him, tongue immediately demanding ingress, Aziraphale was trembling. Tiny sounds of need spilled into Crowley’s mouth as he tugged at the demon’s hair and ran his hands over his chest and ribs, clutching at him hard enough to bruise. 

“You’re going to drive me insane,” Crowley growled as he pinned the angel against the ground and bent his head to lick and suck at each nipple in turn. 

Aziraphale arched his back the better to press into it, fingers digging in Crowley’s back. 

“Have you … have you ever?” Crowely rasped. He looked up at Aziraphale, his hair glinting red under the starlight. 

The angel shook his head. “Never wanted anyone the way I want you. Have you?”

“Nah,” he said softly “only ever wanted you.” He kissed his way back up the angel’s chest to trail tiny bite marks over the front of his throat. 

Aziraphale shivered, wrapping his legs around Crowley’s hips, hands stroking the back of his neck, then meandering down his sides and over his hips, feeling the sharp edges and tight planes of him. 

“You fit perfectly against me,” he said softly into his hair, breathing in the scent of fireworks and woodsmoke as Crowley pressed kisses under his jaw. “Like you were made for this.”

“I was,” Crowley said simply as if that fact were the cornerstone of the universe. 

Then he gave the angel a wicked smile and grabbed his wrists, pinning them above his head as he pressed his full weight against him, skin sliding against skin. Aziraphale felt himself go boneless, body pressing helplessly into Crowley’s, wrists surrendering to that demanding grasp. 

“And I’ve always wanted you just like this,” Crowley murmured. “Completely mine, and completely lost in it.”

Aziraphale cried out as Crowley pinned him under his lithe body, biting kisses over his ribs. The cry trailed off into a pleading, incoherent moan as Crowley let go of his wrists to push his thighs apart. He spent several long, torturous minutes sucking and licking inside the angel’s thighs, then bit his hip hard enough to draw blood, tongue following the path of the rivulet. One hand stayed tight against his thigh, pushing it back, holding him open, while the other dipped lower to press miracle-slick fingers against his entrance.

Aziraphale groaned low in his chest, impatiently trying to push down against Crowley’s hand. Crowley made a sound that thrummed with impatience and want, pulling Aziraphale’s hair and kissing him as if he could kiss him hard enough to meld them together. He slid a finger into the angel, seeking out the most sensitive spot inside him and rubbing against it, adding a second, then a third finger, as soon as Aziraphale could stand it. 

Crowley was gasping raggedly into his mouth every time he moved his hand, as if he was the one being taken apart, and Aziraphale couldn’t stand it any longer. He needed to get as close to Crowley as possible, until there was no boundary between his light and the demon’s fire. 

His heart tapped a morse code of desire and nervousness and love so vast he would never find the edges of it. He took a deep breath in, suddenly worried that he wouldn’t be able to make Crowley feel half of what he himself was feeling, but unable to do anything but follow his instincts. 

Shuddering and moaning with every movement of Crowley’s fingers inside him, he wrapped one arm around the demon’s shoulders so he could hold on to him, and slipped the other down to grasp and stroke every velvet-hard inch of his shaft. Crowley’s hips jerked sharply, an almost pained sounding escaping him as he bit Aziraphale’s lip hard enough that the angel tasted copper. He drew back to look into Aziraphale’s eyes with an intensity that made the angel shiver and move his hand faster. Crowley curled his fingers harder in response and Aziraphale reached down to grab his wrist.

“Please, Crowley, I want you inside me when I ….”

Crowley gave a low growl of agreement, pressing heated kisses to the angel’s neck and throat as he withdrew his fingers. Repositioning himself on his back on the thick blanket, he reached for Aziraphale, pulling the angel up to straddle his hips. 

Aziraphale couldn’t take his eyes off Crowley, amazed at the demon’s adoration as he watched Aziraphale wrap his fingers around Crowley’s length again and slowly, tentatively guide him home. Aziraphale slid down the barest inch and paused, gasping, thighs trembling as he finally learned what it felt like to have his body stretch and adjust to Crowley’s presence inside it. 

Crowley was as deeply affected, arching back as he shut his eyes, breath coming in short gasps. Then he reached for Aziraphale’s hips and pulled him down faster, making helpless sounds of pleasure as they rocked to meet one another.

Aziraphale wanted to savour every second, take in every detail of Crowley’s wide eyes subsumed in luminous amber, his red hair clinging to his forehead. But he was unprepared for the sharp, hot pleasure of Crowley so tight inside him, every tiny slide and press quickening his movements into an erratic crescendo with Crowley as the counterpoint. 

The demon reached for both his hands, and Aziraphale gripped tight as white hot pleasure burned him to ashes from the inside out. He shouted Crowley’s name to the stars, whole body trembling as he breathed raggedly, groaning with each outbreath. He was aware of nothing except Crowley buried deep in him as he shuddered through the aftershocks, in tears with pleasure and overwhelmed with sensation.

Crowley bucked faster in response, rhythm stuttering as he moaned Aziraphale’s name over and over. Then he arched off the ground, pulling their joined hands to his mouth and sinking his teeth into the inside of Aziraphale’s wrist, shouting his pleasure against the angel’s flesh.

Aziraphale quickly learned that his body wasn’t subject to human limits, and nor was Crowley’s. He could feel that the demon was still hard inside him, every drag making him clench and shudder from the sensitivity. Whimpering, stroking Crowley’s face softly, Aziraphale leaned forward to kiss him, dizzy with wonder. Crowley’s hips rocked insistently as soon as their lips met, demanding more. Aziraphale wanted to give him anything, everything he could ever want, sliding his tongue into Crowley’s mouth. He explored slowly, savouring the heat of Crowley inside him. Crowley’s hands were kneading his back and clutching at his sides, hips rocking faster with every kiss.

“Slow down,” Aziraphale whispered softly in his ear. “We have all night.”

“If you make a quip about me going too fast for you, I swear I’ll stop altogether,” Crowley said with a rough laugh, fingers tangling in Aziraphale’s hair as he slowed his movements to long, slow slides that left them both groaning. Aziraphale pressed smoothly into every thrust, taking Crowley in again and again and clenching tight against him. 

Crowley watched him avidly, leaning up every so often to kiss him slowly, then drawing back so he could watch the angel’s face. His hands roamed over every inch of Aziraphale’s body as he took him, tracing starfire across the softness of his stomach and the strength of his back, pressing it into the creases of his hips and trailing it down the insides of his thighs. 

If Crowley couldn’t take his hands off the angel, then Aziraphale couldn’t keep his mouth from Crowley’s skin. He kissed under his jaw and sucked at his pulse. He licked into the hollow of his throat and tasted smoke and stars. His eager mouth sought out the curve of Crowley’s biceps, and the lines of his collarbones. His tongue tasted the heat of his chest and contrasted the lean muscles there with the tenderness of his nipples. His lips pressed over Crowley’s heart and felt it thundering against them. Again and again he felt the warm intimacy of Crowley coming inside him, and each time he felt Crowley’s fire flickering through every cell of his being until he was incandescent with it.

As the sky grew lighter, Crowley slid his hand down Aziraphale’s back to cradle his hip and press him down even more firmly. Aziraphale whimpered, so over-sensitive that the slight change in angle was too much, causing him to spill helplessly between them. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful, angel,” Crowley whispered, running his thumb along Aziraphale’s lower lip. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and you’re mine.” 

“Yours.” Aziraphale managed to agree, his voice shaking. Crowley’s soft smile developed wicked edges, and Aziraphale felt a shiver of delight flicker down his spine.

“Mine,” the demon reiterated. “And I’m going to prove that to you once more.” 

With that, he took hold of the angel’s hips, rocking them in a frantic rhythm as he pressed up in fast, sharp thrusts that left Aziraphale writhing and keening, clutching frantically at Crowley’s shoulders and spreading his legs wider to take him as deep as he could. The demon didn’t slow down for a second, slamming into him until their hips were meeting painfully hard, heavenly and infernal fire clashing and racing through them as if their joined bodies were one. Aziraphale heard himself all but screaming Crowley’s name, bearing down hard against the demon until he heard him snarl with pleasure and over-sensitivity, holding the angel down possessively as he spilled deep inside him.

When they could speak again, Crowley reached up to stroke Aziraphale’s hair, fingers tangling so gently in it.

“Angel,” he breathed softly. “I’m in love with you.”

Tears welled in Aziraphale’s eyes as he gazed down at Crowley. 

“I love you too,” he whispered. 

The brilliance of Crowley’s smile in that moment eclipsed the rest of the world. Aziraphale smiled back, then curled into the demon, tucking his head into the crook of his neck. As the dawn stretched its wings of faint light and the stars faded, he knew he would do anything it took to keep his demon safe. 

Kielder forest was coming to life, birds chirping and small creatures rustling in the undergrowth. But there wasn’t a single human in sight, and the forest and lakes and expansive sky belonged to them alone. 

Aziraphale’s world was forever changed. He knew that his life would be ever split into the time before he and Crowley were joined, and the time since. He pressed closer against his lover, holding him as if he could keep them both in that moment.

As the first rays of the sun stretched above the horizon, he heard Crowley murmur, “Angel?”

“Yes, my love?”

“I guess we shouldn’t mention this too much. Or repeat it.”

“I guess not.” Aziraphale pushed closer as if he could hide against Crowley forever.

“Write to me sometimes, perhaps? I adore those letters. Knowing you have so many memories of me stored up like something to take out and treasure …. ”

“I treasure every moment with you,” Aziraphale reassured him, leaning up for a long, warm kiss.

“If we survive the apocalypse, meet me back here on the first Valentine’s day after? Even if we’re practically living together by then, do it anyway?”

“Of course,” Aziraphale nuzzled his face gently, then added in a voice so soft it was barely there. “What if we don’t survive? Oh, Crowley.”

To his surprise, the demon smiled gently at him.

“Then I’ll die knowing you loved me too.”

* * *

On the Valentines Day after the apocalypse was averted, Aziraphale arrived at the deserted campsite to find a thick tartan rug spread out on a spot he remembered well. As he sat down there was a chime, and Crowley appeared beside him, offering him a heart-shaped chocolate lollipop. 

“Had to get one more cliche gift in,” he grinned as he leaned over and kissed him. “Oh, who am I kidding. You’re stuck with an eternity of sappy gifts now, angel.”

“You old romantic,” Aziraphale murmured against him. “I’m quite certain I can live with that.”

“You might regret saying that.” Crowley snapped his fingers and suddenly their picnic blanket was awash in heart shaped chocolate boxes, helium balloons, and enough flowers to fill a small garden. Aziraphale laughed in delight, fisting his hands in Crowley’s lapels and pulling him into a heated kiss. The campsite stayed mysteriously closed for several nights after that, as an angel and a demon enjoyed a brave new world where they were free to be in love, falling into each other again and again under the star-studded dome of the sky.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first E rated fic and I'm simultaneously amazed that I did it and more nervous than Aziraphale when someone wants to buy a book. 
> 
> If you enjoyed it, let me know!
> 
> Come say hi on [Tumblr](http://azfell-and-his-demon.tumblr.com).


End file.
